The Cultargan Heiress
by Mrs L.Box
Summary: Content with a simple life and frightened of the big wide world, Flora, the daughter of the infamous Sir Bevis Cultarga is rather put out when she is taken by pirates. And then saved by different pirates. And then hunted down by the previous pirates. Stranger than the unusual value she has to these people still is the elusive Captain Jack Sparrow who seems to have all the answers.
1. Chapter 1

I am afraid of the ocean and its' very deep dark depths. So, to suffer the misfortune of abduction by pirate was far worse when ones greatest fear surrounds them. But, I skip ahead of myself. I was quite happy on land before all that. Not wonderfully or blessedly but quite happy. Happy enough to tide me over through life. Pleased with the security my life brought me. In fact, relieved that I had very little to fear for where I lived my greatest phobias was difficult to become reality. It is rather awkward when one fears the ocean, volcanoes, disease, famine, spiders... My mother and father were rather well off; I was quite protected from it all. I say well off… father had a knighthood and owned most of the land on the island of Cultarga on which we lived. Eighty years before, the island was nothing more than that. An island. With a few birds and very little else. My grandfather landed there from England, began to grow sugar cane, and raised a new trade route from nothing and the place flourished. He named it, developed it, grew his business and was able to sell it off once rich enough and began to build and rent out housing and retail. The island now buzzes with life, the port large enough to dock three large ships at a time. And my father inherited it all. Served the king, became a knight and returned to his homestead to look over the island that was all his own and now had a population of over 7,000.

That is who I am, Flora Cultarga, daughter of Sir Bevis and Lady Deseree, heiress to the island of Cultarga. And terrified of most things.

Well… semi-heiress. A mere technicality due to my sex disables me from inheriting the land without a suitable husband of who's name must be beside mine on the document. Said husband must be chosen, studied and approved by my parents and then I will be certain to gain my birth right in the wake of my father's death. I will have full access but will be supervised by my husband.

My parents had done just that. They had found me Lord Edgar Starkwright. Papa very much liked him. He was of good breeding, vast fortune and great name. Sir Bevis Cultarga could find no better man for his beloved daughter. Edgar wanted nothing more than to marry me. Such a gain would allow him a town-based home in Port Royale and a grand mansion with the majority of land on Cultarga. A wise investment indeed.

When Edgar proposed, he made it rather clear that he expected no other answer and assumed that I was game. Not only did he not get down on one knee, he took my hand and placed the ring upon my finger, stating plainly, "I would say it was about time."

Mother had told me how father had returned from war and proposed to her in the rose garden of her own parents French chateau on a summers evening, the sweet smell of blooms overwhelming and luscious. She said it was like a dream; a man she knew intimately, of whom her family barely approved, with a questionable inheritance but bravery like no other, kissing her and saying sweetly, softly that he desired her hand in marriage. That no heart could beat beside his but her very own. Never had she been more in love than she was then. He in uniform, devotion not only in his eyes but shone through his very soul, oozed from his being. It was love.

I thought of that then, the tightness of the large, ruby, diamond encaged engagement ring on my finger seeming to squeeze also at my heart. It was the first time I had felt a glimmer of doubt. My English blood helped me supress it deep within. Although the image of my parents now did not inspire the notion of passionate love, I could believe it of them young. Now, they were shadows of who they once were; that wild romance today a deep, solid loyalty. They loved one another; there was no doubt about it. They were one.

Somehow, I could not imagine that with Edgar. For a moment after the ring was on my finger I desperately desired to be in a rose garden and not the parlour. I wanted romantic evenings, not after breakfast proposals of marriage. I wanted the intimacy, the whispers between lovers. Never had I had that. Never would I have that. But this was the simplest way to a simple life. A secure, safe marriage would bring me what I wanted. Did such a life wait upon my horizon?

My simple life was disrupted a week following the engagement. My mother and I were in the day room that afternoon, with the wedding planners, she wanted to make the fairy-tale of my special day. And secretly I was relieved. She knew that deep down, that was all I would want. So I let her go about the proposals and nodded when required.

It was not engrossing however, so I did not miss the low rumble of a warning cannon. The room fell silent. Mother seemed to take a moment to gather herself before rising from her chair. There were no cannons yet on Cultarga; they were in fact on a ship making passage from England, on their way but, clearly, too late. Standing with her, I dashed towards the window overlooking the harbour and saw, to my surprise, in the distance a grand, ragged ship approaching. Its sails grey and tattered and its frame weathered it was like no navy or cargo ship I had seen at our port. From its appearance, it was not long before it was clear to me to whom that kind of boat would belong to and a flood of dread that turned my stomach came over me. Pirates.

Glancing at mother, I knew by her expression that this was very far from a good thing. An eighty year old island with such humble beginnings had not established a firm and effective naval protection; it was still developing every day. The army and police that did serve the island were fair and plenty but certainly not the most well-practiced. Even the guards about our estate would be underqualified to handle a situation like this. Father, a knight and soldier had been able to hire only so much protection on his island from the Kings army as his majesty would allow.

"It's only one ship," I spoke softly as it rode across the sea towards us at an unnervingly greater speed than I would have assumed capable.

From behind me, mother sneered fearfully "One ship of pirates it too many." And before I had a chance to see her face, there was a rustle of skirts and she was fleeing the room. I excused the wedding planners before following nervously in haste. Struck by her response, it was her attitude that was perhaps the final proof of how serious a situation this was.

I found her, clinging to fathers arm in the wide open front doorway of the entrance hall. Father was barking orders at his captain of the guard. As the guard stalked determinedly away, I was descending the staircase cautiously.

"What foolish pirates would attack in broad daylight?" Mother hissed, peering desperately into fathers face, her wide bright blue eyes, very much like my own, glistening. Her face was still dignified and beautiful, even when strained with fear.

From what I could see through the doorway, the ship was lowering many boats for its people to land upon our shores. It would not be long before they successfully invaded.

Father did not look at her when he finally replied, a dark, regretful look upon his tired, strong-jawed face, "Pirates with nothing to fear"


	2. Chapter 2

The remaining men on the ship itself had begun to rain havoc upon the town, cannons fired from both sides, destroying the port and warehouses there. I had no understanding of the destruction that would ensue.

Turning swiftly from where he stood, father called for the butler who seemed dishevelled when he arrived. Ordering him to hide valuables and to instruct the other staff to seek refuge, take cover wherever they could, he dismissed him swiftly. Feeling the servants had been dealt with; he turned to mother and I, who gaped nervously at him.

He approached me and took my hands firmly in his own, "You are _my_ most valuable treasure. Run! To the crypt. You and your mother. There is a shelf along the right hand side at the far end. A wooden door poses as a wall, it should open. Hide there until I come and find you."

When I stared back at him, questioningly, he dropped my hands, "Deseree, take her. Ensure she's safe. If there was anyone or thing they would treasure most, it would be her."

Mother inclined her head and hurriedly kissed him, a light, sweet peck with all the longing and determination of an embrace. The expression they shared as they parted was a demand to be reunited. It crossed my mind to wonder should Edgar ever want me with him like that.

A hard grasp upon my wrist awoke me from my daze; it was mother dragging me through the house to the rooms to the other end. In the parlour, she led me out the French windows overlooking the gardens and down the steady incline across the grass. The family mausoleum lay to the further end of the grounds, just beyond the handsome hedge-rowed floral gardens I spent much of my childhood playing in. Only three members of my family lay in the crypt; my grandparents and my aunt who died of pneumonia when she was just nine years old. The unwelcome thought came to me that after this day we may be required to add to its' numbers. As soon as it was in my mind, I forced it away again, refusing to think so.

"Why is Papa not with us?" My voice seemed to quiver with the tears building within.

"He shall join the men upon the waterfront. Now come Flora, they will be landing on our shores in no time at all."

I said no more as we came to the small woodland that grew about the structure, deliberately arching and encircling it without the branches encroaching and eroding the stone. Never, in all my twenty years, had I been inside, refusing to enter such a morbid, spider-infested, eerie space as that. Yet now, my very survival depended upon it.

It took the two of us to force the heavy iron door, intricately engraved with climbing roses from each individual petal to thorn, open and then longer to push it shut behind us. Unsettling was the only way to describe the place. The two coffins on the end shelves directly across from the doorway were my grandparents, with my aunt on the top shelf to the far left hand side. It seemed so unwelcoming to be in a room with them having never been so when they were living. This was a place the breathing should not be. The only light within came from the small artistic, glassless, fixed window in the arch above the door but it was enough for mother who scrambled upon her hands and knees in search of the hidden hatch.

In all my life, I never thought I would see mother in such a lowly position. Muttering to herself in French, her words seemed to be curses that no polite woman would ever utter in society and that I would certainly never know… Her boorish father had not taught her much, this seemed a rather unintentional lesson.

"Flora!" my mother barked, "Here." I scampered over, feeling like a lost child and knelt beside her.

"This door will not slide, help me." She reached beneath the shelf, hands firmly upon the wooden panel, unshaken by the debris, pebbles and grime that had accumulated on the floor by the creatures who dwelled within and the passage of time. Grimacing, I pushed weakly too. It opened enough for me to slip through, feet first, but once inside, I found there was barely enough room to turn.

"Mama, there is no room for two. Please, lay here instead, I shall find someplace else to hide."

I made to pull myself out, but my mother spoke firmly, her tone different from before, "No, ma Cherie, no." She began to slide the door back along, it having been loosened when we had forced it. My hands held it open, however, speechless and tearful. Patting my fingers comfortingly, she spoke softly, forcing back all her fear, "Flora, do not cry. They will hear you. I shall find someplace else. Stay quiet; do not fear for me or your father. Here is where we intended you to be. Hush." About to pull the rest of the door across, she was stopped again when my hand reached out, grasping her arm. Taking it in her own, she placed it upon her cheek and I felt the hot tears on her face.

"Mama," I croaked, struggling to form words as the horror of that day took hold of me, "don't leave me."

"Fear nothing, ma Cherie. I will be safe. Papa and I will return when all this is over. Do not step out until then. We will come to you. Goodbye." Placing a firm kiss on my knuckles, she pushed my hand back inside and slid the door to. I heard shuffling from the other side and the struggling groan of the crypt door opening and shutting stubbornly. Mothers' determination must have aided her escape from there single-handedly.

Cradling my arm to my chest, I wept silently, the overwhelming prospect of the losses that may occur to me was far too much for my guarded heart. I craved nothing more then, but another moment with my parents. Safe and sound, about the fire, at the table with them at breakfast, to walk about the town together. Just once more. This sorrow, so unusual and foreign, had the ability to make me mourn a loss that had not happened. However, whatever was to be, nothing would be the same and I prayed then that those I loved would be unharmed at least.

When the tears subsided, weariness claimed me and I drifted into more of unconsciousness than sleep. Therefore, I did not immediately awaken at the first insistent thuds upon the mausoleum door. Groggy and unrested, I lifted my head, confused for a moment when I opened my eyes to the darkness surrounding me. Once I regained my senses, a glimmer of hope brightened my spirits as I wondered if it was my parents, come to free me from this hellish hovel. Listening closely, I anticipated the sound of the door whining open.

The whine came, along with aggravated, impatient voices. There appeared to be three out there from the different tones and none of them sounded like mama and papa. Perhaps they had sent some men to get me, for they had been injured. This thought concerned me so I brushed it aside. Yet the three men were still peculiar. My parents were both adamant that they were to retrieve me. So why were they not here?

That was when it dawned on me. The pirates had made it this far in land and were now hunting for treasure. Why wouldn't they look in the crypt? It had been known for the wealthy to store their heirlooms and jewels in all sorts of places. As pirates, I'm sure they would know most hiding spots by now.

The scuffing of shoes was close by and there was a groan followed by a crack. I knew they had broken open one of the coffins. They would find nothing. Twice more I heard them break open and vandalize caskets. It sent a chill along my spine. Had they no shame?

One kicked the wooden debris upon the floor in frustration and cried a muffled curse. Then disgruntled conversation continued. I wished I could hear what they said clearer. From the best I could understand, they were hoping to find rubies if they weren't to find the girl.

"She'd be worth a blimmin' fortune." I heard one squawk quite clearly, close to me.

"Heiresses always do." The other replied. So it _was_ me they would want. Somehow, I felt increasingly more unsafe with in that space. Fortunately their talking became more unclear as they began to leave. However, only two pairs of feet went. The other seemed to kick about the remnants of coffin and carcasses on the floor dejectedly. Before he turned to go he brushed one of the pebbles aside, I heard it skip across the floor and along the shelf, striking the wooden door with a clear, hollow clunk.

No one spoke, no one moved and I did not breathe. Suddenly there was an excited scrambling and before I knew it, the men were at the panel, their voices loud and strong on the other side.

"These lords and ladies always got secret doors somewhere or other." One sniggered.

"P'raps it's rare jewels. Ca'tain would sure like those." Said another.

"Well, let's find out." The final one spoke, his voice softer than the others and far more malicious. Moments later, time slowing agonisingly, dread like a huge lump of stone in my throat, they drew the door across to find me hunched feebly. Tears rolled down my cheeks as the dark figures, their faces just rounded shapes peering at me, like shadow demons, threatening and horrifying, cackled triumphantly.

"Me thinks we found ourselves the Cultargan heiress." the final one guffawed and reached in to drag me out. The other two aided him. Fear made me fight back and I kicked and sobbed and punched weakly like a new-born kitten as I was carried out into the twilight. Still their faces were impossible to visualise; shaping the whole ordeal into a long horror that would not end.

Finally, just two carried me, the one who was the first to pull me out led the way across the gardens, through the house which was trashed and stripped beyond recognition, and out again towards the front gates that lay gaping wide. Increasingly uncomfortable, the man who held my feet purposely dug his nails into the soft skin of my ankles and the other grasped clumsily at my armpits, making the journey incredibly painful. I whimpered, but that was all I could muster. Somehow, I had given up hope. If the pirates had got me that meant that no one would be there to save me. Therefore, I had not the energy or will-power to scream out for help as they carried me roughly through the town to one of their boats.

Once on the shore, they threw me into the nearest one. I howled in pain as my back and side struck awkwardly on the harsh angles. The one, who had held my feet, roughly pulled me into a sitting position, then withdrew from under my seat some coarse rope and bound my wrists behind my back. Then we waited as the evening grew colder for the various pirates that had scattered like vermin across the island, my father's domain, my grandfather's legacy, to return with their plunder, to the boats. As they did, my tears halted and I sat silently in that boat and watched the figures, still shadowed by the fast descending night, prepare to leave my home in tatters and ruin. My very justified reason to fear pirates had become a reality, and soon I would be cast into the centre of that watery void, my other great terror, surrounded by unpredictable brutes with no hope of escape.

Yes, this was my nightmare. A waking a nightmare. The sun would not rise on the horizon. For I would be descending into hell.


	3. Chapter 3

Enclosed amongst sweaty, dirty, stinking bodies, the journey across the rough ocean was enough to make me violently ill over the sides of the little boat. Some of the pirates cackled and a few groaned, repulsed by me. Repulsed by me?

The pirate who had held my underarms was the only one to hold me as I vomited repeatedly. It was the leader of the trio, who also appeared to be the leader of that particular boat who commented first.

"Methinks you should stop playing nursemaid to this heiress, Rover. She'll be getting ideas 'bout us. Think we're soft."

"She's just a little seasick Guv, nones of us be wanting to be swimming in a boat full of her aft'noon tea. I'd mind to bring up me own broth." Rover was peculiar name for such a tall, lanky grotty man. It was his eyes that were for sure softer than the others, less shifty and far simpler.

"Back chat on my boat warrants a good hiding lad," Guv chuckled, "that's if you didn't amuse me so. But we don't wants her thinking that I won't throw her in just as easy as I can whistle." He glared knowingly at me, eyeing me with a sneer that warned me to watch my back. Long, greasy brown hair framed his face, falling out of his crudely tied bow, those blue eyes, encircled with red always finding a way back to me. He was the one I feared most on that boat, not for his mauled appearance, the deep jagged scars beneath his left eye and mouth, twisting his face out of shape, but for his power. Particularly, the need he had for it. I knew he wasn't the captain, so why did he behave so? The other who had made up the three, with the shaved head and pox-marked skin, watched me hungrily. Those black, lifeless eyes still haunt me, seeming to be constantly amused by my suffering. He fidgeted all the way to the ship, occasionally hissing at the four men rowing, "Can't you go any faster?"

At our destination, I was relieved to leave the small, unpredictable boat for the larger vessel. As I stood woosily, Rover had to hold my arm to keep me on my feet, the rocking, the physical exhaustion I felt from the excessive loss of bodily fluids and the emotional draining of the traumatic day made the littlest of movements impossible.

Peering over my shoulder briefly as Guv and a couple of other men headed up the ladder prepared themselves to lift me up, I could see only a dark mass away in the distance with an orange glowing in the centre of it. My home, now indistinguishable.

A wave of queasiness followed but I did not get time to heave before I was yanked up a ladder awkwardly by three Pirates. Along the lengths of the ship, other boats were beginning to unload and be lifted back into craft.

On the deck, it was loud and busy. The crew setting to work, readying to lift anchor and sail away from their triumph, laughed raucously and sang foolishly but seemed surprisingly professional and savvy in what they were doing. However, there was a hush as I was led across the deck. Not a single one of them stopped what they were doing but one could tell when attention was upon us.

"Captain's cabin with you heiress, gonna be a nice treat for Maurier." Guv snarled at me, yanking me hard towards a fine, sturdy wooden door, with glass panels of stained-glass creating a fearsome scene of the kraken raising itself high and vast above a small fishing vessel, at the end of the ship. It was the Captain's cabin.

He rapped three times on the door and this was shortly followed by a simple "Enter."

No other crew went in, only Guv and I.

I found myself in a rather grand, cluttered, but finely decorated room, with wide, large open windows, with an elevated step up to them; I was surprised by how handsome the place was. There were steps along the right of the wall, going down into the depths of the ship which I assumed led to the Captains bedchamber. There were piles of books and old tomes all about the place, on chest of drawers and shelves. Ornaments, paintings and oil lamps were scattered all about the edge of the room. The central space was clear but for a large, dark oak, table in the middle, long enough to sit at least a dozen people spaciously.

However, the table was not made up for guests but was once again covered with papers, a huge map at the centre of the chaos. A man, middle-aged of whom had a relatively handsome face sat at the map, a heavy book placed to his left, his finger upon his place as he scrutinised the chart, lost in thought.

Only briefly did he look up, hardly taking note of me and addressed Guv, returning to study the map. "Thank you, there will be fine." He waved his hand in the direction of a burgundy arm chair, on the raised platform, turned slightly towards him at his table. Escorted over there, I was firmly placed in the seat. Guv peered over at his master for approval but all he received was an order, "Bring us some wine. That'll be all." It seemed Guv was used to being ordered about so and with a simple "Aye Captain," left us to fulfil his master's wish.

How strange it was to see so fearsome a pirate, appear almost meek to his superior.

"Hello, Miss Cultarga." Finally he withdrew his attention from his papers, "Or may I call you Flora? I am Captain Maurier and welcome to my ship." Well-spoken and clear-skinned but for a deep scar on his right temple, I was surprised by the appearance of Captain Maurier. His blue eyes sparkled with wonder and excitement and his mouth pulled up at the corner in a pleased smirk. With his light brown hair to his shoulders, wild and loose, chin strong and his jaw wide, for being at least forty, he was rather handsome indeed… I was not to be fooled by beauty.

"How do you know who I am?" I scowled, the first words I had spoken to any pirate.

That smirk grew into a smug grin and his eyes dancing with pleasure, replied in that soft, English accent that was throwing me entirely, "I have made it my business to know every heiress by name, in the Caribbean."

Guv stepped in then with his master's order, a tray with two crystal glasses and a large bottle, opened and awaiting consumption. The Captain addressed him briefly, "Command the men, raise anchor. Our course is north, let's make for Tortuga."

A broad grin spread across Guv's face. Even I had heard of the place and knew it to be full of the lowest, common sort who bred like dogs and drank like fish. It was never a place I'd found cause to visit. But to a Pirate, I assumed t'was sheer bliss.

Pouring a glass for himself, he raised the bottle aloft, "May I offer you some wine, my dear?"

I ignored him, and took my chance to speak whilst he sipped at his drink, rallying my physical strength as well as my emotional, "I suppose you shall be keeping me for ransom. My parents shall pay it, I assure you." My chin held high, my wrists still bound, my general smell and appearance outrageous, I felt I must maintain some dignity discussing such matters.

"That's assuming my men have left them alive." Captain Mauriers' expression did not change, he simply watched with anticipation as my own face fell and shoulders slumped. "It's difficult to know," he continued, "They can be rather spontaneous. I tell them what I need and allow them to, otherwise, do as they please."

Nothing I could say would make any difference to my predicament. There was no response fitting to such information. Pressing my lips together firmly, briefly shutting my eyes, I let out a great breath of air. Opening them again, nothing had changed only that the Captain was upon his feet.

"Flora-"  
"I prefer Miss Cultarga," I hissed.

He hesiatated only slightly, but I saw he was taken aback "Miss Cultarga, I don't require money of you. Nor do I require your body, however rounded and charming a specimen you are. In fact, you're worth very little to me other than your fortune, but seeing as I am fully informed of the set rules to your inheritance, I find little use in that either. One will have to wait for that foolish, distant cousin to take his rightful place before I can care for that." Gradually, he stalked smoothly towards me, even as the ship rocked, like a panther hunting its prey. "No, you are something of a rarity." Stooping before me, he brushed away strand of hair falling across my eye, gently, "Therefore, I'd like to keep you in one piece. But do not doubt that I would give you to my crew and then throw you overboard if you were to so much as attempt any… disruption." He spoke delicately, he remained composed and charming but such words were not to be taken lightly.

I felt the ship set sail, it groaned with the effort.

Placing his hand on my arm, he helped me on my feet and led me down the staircase which came to a door. Simply opening it, we came upon a large, rouge bedchamber once again richly decorated with beautiful velvet and satins. Lit by fixed lamps on the red walls, it was relatively bright. There were two portholes fitted with glass to the left of the bed, a fine piece of furniture, with two bedposts at its head that was encroached with black velvet, draped handsomely, which was directly opposite the door. A handsome wooden chest sat at the foot of it and a screen of dusty blue, with green and black vines entwining across it stood in the right hand corner shielding what appeared to be a spacious brass bath tub. On the left of the door in stood a wider door that I was sure led to a ferociously well-stocked wardrobe and about were drawers and more paintings, perhaps a little more risqué than in the quarters upstairs. A common theme was nude women draped in translucent satin.

Pushing me inside, he closed the door behind me and crossed the room, his knee-high boot heels clicking on the wooden floor, to pull the rope that rang the bell, which hung beside the bed. Next he returned to me and came up behind me. I tensed. There was nothing to fear for he just undid my bonds and wandered back towards the bed, swaggering as he played idly with the rope from my wrists in his hands.

When I rubbed at my wrists but remained where I stood, he came to a halt and eyed me curiously. "Are you plotting against me already? Or perhaps you wonder how a Pirate can desire such luxury? Or are you curious to know why I have brought you to my bedchambers?" I glared back at him in return.

Eyeing me beneath a hooded brow for a moment, he shrugged and continued pacing the room, "Or it is all three. Fear nothing, for now, Miss Cultarga. I shall not claim you upon this, here bed. Those who I have shared this bed with I have never had to take by force."

At that moment, there was a knock and in entered a different pirate, one I had not met.

"Ahh, Trass. I wish to have a bath drawn for Miss Cultarga. Promptly." Once again, the pirate went without a word and hurried away to do as his master had commanded.

Waiting as three pirates came and went with piping hot buckets of water, Maurier shrugged of his long coat and reclined lazily back on the bed, still entwining the rope etween his fingers. I kept to the corner.

"The bath is ready captain." Trass stated when the others had left.

"Thank you kindly, that will be all."Maurier rose as the servant left and went to a small set of drawers beside the screen. He took something from within and then went to the steaming tub. I stepped around to see what he was doing.

Hearing the rustle of my skirts, he called, "Come, my dear, whilst it is still hot. Either way you shall be having one, and I would not think twice to dunk you in cold water." Cautiously, I approached and took my place opposite him, the tub between us.

That smirk returned again. In his hand was a small bottle of yellowish liquid. He saw my gaze fall on it, "T'is only vanilla extract. Superior in flavour to that of rosewater. Just a few drops," he added the liquid so as he spoke, "and the water is perfumed bliss."

Rolling up his shirt sleeves, he stepped smoothly around to my side.

"What are you doing?" I sneered, backing away.

"Having much experience with undoing gowns, I am much acquainted with the struggles of the things." He was behind me, uncomfortably close, pushing my hair from my neck gently; the heat of his breath on my skin, he began to undo the back of my dress. It took him no time at all, and the corset swiftly followed so that I was left in my thin, flimsy underdress and petticoats. "Shall I help you remove the rest? I have never known anyone to struggle with these articles, but many like me to remove them just the same."

I pulled away as he began to reach out, "I am quite capable."

With a triumphant he stepped back, "I shall take leave; you will find me behind this screen." He left me, collecting my clothes off the floor as he went, but hung a dressing-gown over the screen for me. The door we came in opened and shut and then there was the confident step across the room. Hearing the bed creak as he lay back on it, he was true to his word. Captain Maurier would wait on the other side of that screen as I sat naked and defenceless in the bath. Why couldn't he leave me be?

I removed the remainder of my clothing and slowly lowered myself into the steaming, hot tub of water. The scent of vanilla stirred at my intrusion and claimed my senses. Taking the sponge floating about idly, I scrubbed ferociously at my face. I felt grimy all over. Washing my hair after removing the remaining pins and ribbons holding in place the final strands of hair, the soap even had a pleasing honey scent to it. In the heat of the water, my muscles and bones relaxed and I almost began to forget where I was.

I had been so tense, so terrified. The fear lingered but I had to persevere, keep moving. For if it was true and my family had not survived, then I must co-operate, go on for them and find my way back to Edgar.

Perhaps he would hunt my captors down, take me in his arms and vow to protect me from such horrors and never allow me to step a single foot off-shore again. Perhaps. Something deep in my heart told me that it was all just hope. For Edgar, for my escape, for my life.

I was beginning to doze when Maurier disrupted my rest, "That is enough time in the tub, don't you think. We have business to attend to."

"Well, if you must rush me, bring me a towel." I snapped back, tired of his incessant talking, "And I do not require you to dry me off."

There was only silence, an essence of sulking in the air, and then I heard his light step as he approached the screen and tossed a towel over the dressing gown. Out of the tub fast, I rubbed down quickly, dried my hair as best I could and flung on and buttoned the loose-fitting dressing gown. There was, for the first time in many a year, no snugness at the chest for me. It was rather liberating, or would have been were circumstances different. I was self-conscious, however, due to the ending of the buttons led to a showing of my legs from above my knee and down. The gown itself dragged on the floor. I was smaller than the Captain which was favourable, for who knows what would have been visible had my head reached his brow.

As I was about to step out from behind the screen, a thought occurred to me as my gaze fell upon the now warm bath tub. This may be my chance to eliminate him. Or at least negotiate. Now or never. He was a saucy lad, he would respond well to any beckoning…

"Captain, it seems I require aid after all. "I cooed, my voice was soft and sweet, but my chest burned with anticipation and hate. I knew my face read cunning so I tried to soften it, make it more alluring.

A mocking chuckle came from closer than I had expected and I jumped a little, "This was not the business I intended," appearing before me in no time, Maurier seemed changed when welcoming advances; prouder, excitable, enthusiastic. I backed away playfully so that once again, I had the tub between us, "But, there's always tomorrow." He purred, and crept towards me.

"Why Captain, you would think that I would allude to such behaviour?" Biting my lip sensually for him, I was surprised how naturally this came to me, never had I thought myself capable of seduction "Then again, you have something I want, and I have something you want whatever that may be. Maybe it is time we got along…" I loosened the top button of the dressing gown idly. His eyes darted to my hands movement and then swiftly returned to mine, his expression raw lust. "You are what I want." his face close to mine, I could feel the yearning pulsating off of him. "It appears that I shall enjoy your company on my ship very much, after all"

He was before me then and my hands snaked up his chest, caressing the firm muscles there, and grasped his shirt front. My face close to his, I whispered, "Fickle man."

Captain Maurier did not get a chance to respond. Violently, with all the strength I could gather, I threw him sideways into the bath tub. He went in head first, legs in the air and I joined him, straddling to hold the pirates body down. Facing upwards, he could see my furious face sneering down at him, "Whatever you want from me, you shan't have it!" I roared, reaching underwater to wrap my fingers around his throat. Eyes wide with panic, he clawed at me, his hands out of the water to do so; I struggled to avoid his swipes. It did not take him long to strike me, shoving my head against the edge of the tub.

In my moment of weakness, with a great spluttering gasp of air, Maurier pulled himself up and out of the water. Forcing me upright, as I cradled my head in my hands, dazed from the blow, he held me by the front of my clothes, my face close to his, a twisted terrifying malice conquering his appearance. This was the true Captain Maurier.

"I warned you," he spat, "I do not give second chances and I warned you what would happen should you defy me!" Throwing me out of his grasp, he rose from the tub, splashing water all across the floor. Once he was out, he turned around and, I flinching, lifted me with ease out of the water and dragged me from the room, up the stairs across his cabin and out onto the deck.

The ship was soaring across the ocean, the night sky, with the moon low, was covered in twinkling stars. I'd almost forgotten about the whole wide world. On a normal night, I would have been on the balcony at home, gazing up at them, wide-eyed. The air was bitter and fresh but the crew were lounging about, now that the ship was on course, they could rest for the evening and celebrate their victory. They would rotate watch and steering duties.

As we stepped out, they knew immediately their Captains mood and the festivities came to an abrupt standstill. Guv was at his side in no time with a light set of keys jangling noisily in his hand and held them out to his master. Maurier snatched them and signalled for him to follow whilst the rest of the crew watched us head into the dingy depths of the ship. Guv grabbed a lantern hanging on the ceiling above the steps and I was dragged like a sack of potatoes down to the darker, unwelcoming parts, not even given a chance to recover my footing when I lost it, which I did often, on the sea-slimy steps. The rest of the boat certainly dropped in standard once one left the captains' quarters.

"No luxury, nothing. It didn't have to be this way girl. We could have been partners." I was out of breath by the time we reached my unknown destination, which was the darkest of them all and smelt of decay and rust. One pirate sat on a stool beneath the steps, snoozing, but woke abruptly and was on his feet at the entrance of the captain. On the right hand side of the extensive walk way were bars all the way along, separated into cells with walls of bars. This was the brig.

Maurier led me to the second to last one and as Guv held the lantern up, the captain unlocked the door and rushed me inside. My bare feet skidding on the oily wood, I crashed against the back wall and to the floor with a painful, cracking thud.

"Look at me," he hissed, impatiently.

Unable to move my shoulder or cry from the agony of my fall, I did not respond in time. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced me to face him one last time, "Look at me!" he thundered, the force of it made me shudder. His whole character unnerved me. Teeth grinding, his words came strained, "I'll decide whether it is worth having you remain in the brig, or if it is worth having you at all. You are expendable Cultarga, do not forget that." Thrusting me away forcefully, I whipped my head back and cried out, and could not stop sobbing from then onwards.

Guv and the Captain left immediately after and ascended the stairs without a word. Wet and already chilled to the bone, I crawled, whimpering, to the corner of my cell and huddled there, fearfully, for warmth. I couldn't be brave, I couldn't hope. I was too stupid and weak to even fight. Should I have escaped, I would have been too frightened to row away to safety for fear of drowning in the big endless ocean. I was stranded upon a ship. I could die. And I didn't know if my parents were alive and safe.

It took me a few moments to recover from the hysteria. And finally, I contemplated my surroundings. The pirate had fallen asleep again and snored softly in the distance and not so far from me I heard the squeak of a famished rat. If I had anything left in my stomach, I would have vomited at the overwhelming smell of rot in the air.

The ocean hushed outside and the ship creaked and groaned fiercely but things finally settled and I felt I could shut my eyes, mostly from a crushing weariness. Just as I did, however, there was a voice, that said;

"I wasn't expecting that."


	4. Chapter 4

The voice came from the end cell, the one I was next to. Moonlight poured its silver glow through the portholes and, with a shuffle, the owner of the words revealed himself from the shadows. A handsome face, dark eyed, high cheek-boned, sun-tanned face appeared to me. With unusual facial hair, long dread-locks and a bandana holding it all off his face, I'd certainly never associated with a man like him before. But I was certain that he was another pirate. Was he a jailed member of the crew or a captured enemy?

Shocked by the revelation of my neighbour, I stared open-mouthed. He watched me back and tilted his head curiously, "A girl with sense would have played along with his homemaking routine. What brings you to the brig?" His voice was smooth, confident. Looking him up and down as he sat in the moons beam, the yellow glow of the lanterns barely contributing to my vision; he wore just a baggy light shirt beneath his long unfastened dark coat, with a V down to his waist exposing his bare chest. I could not see, clearly, his breeches, but I could make out the knee-high, handsome but rather shabby boots he wore. A hat sat beside these boots, simply.

"I tried to drown him in my bath water." I stated plainly, still studying him. I feared him not, we had bars separating us and from what I gathered we shared a common enemy.

"Sounds charming," he grinned crookedly and crept closer to the bars. He was not near enough for me to move away just yet but I became wary, "Perhaps I should be asking questions of greater import, but why, pray tell young lass, had you bathwater to occupy." There seemed to be a suggestion of scandalous behaviour and this I could not condone. We had barely spoken!

"I was covered in dirt and my own vomit and I would thank you kindly, pirate, that you not insinuate such vile things! I want to go home! Away from you horrible creatures and this never-ending bedpan of nothingness that we're floating on!"

Silently contemplating my words, it was a few moments before he spoke, "Interesting."

Then neither of us spoke. This went on for some time. It was I who decided to set aside my fuming displeasure at the whole situation and speak again, "Why are you here?"

Holding his head high, petulantly, he replied, "Seeing as that is hardly any of your concern, I'd rather not disclose such information… but as you took the time to ask, I make many friends but seem to make twice as many enemies. I have gotten on the wrong side of the lord of the manor upstairs," he waved nonchalantly to the air, "more than once. It all began with a girl and ended with… well a girl actually. We crossed paths recently and he… got the better of me and here we are."

I slumped back,"Here we are…"

He slumped back"May I know your name?"

"I do not see why not, pirate though you are." Waiting for a reaction from him, I got only a smirk, "It is Flora. Cultarga."

"Ah, so he found you." The pirate murmured, before I could ask him what he knew, I was cut across, a cunning smile spreading across my acquaintances face "Pleased to meet you, young Miss. I am Captain Jack Sparrow, perhaps you've heard of me."Shaking my head timidly, he shuffled peevishly, "Your island's a bit out of my way."

As I began an amused retort, eye brow cocked questioningly, there was a clanging followed by scurrying feet of the steps to the brig. The dozing fool who guarded us seemed to rise promptly. Jack remained where he was, calm and collected. I flinched at the ruckus and crawled to the barred cell door to get a better look of who had come down, fearful that it was that blasted Maurier.

"Right, your shifts over, time to get to actual work." I knew the voice from the instance. It was the nameless member of the trio who had captured me, with the shaven head and cratered complexion. The nasty, vicious one. Never could I forget such a feral, cruel voice. Hardly a leader, but the authority in his voice struck a discomfort in my heart.

"All right, Jewell. Been no mischief of yet. Watch that Sparrow, won't put past him to meddle with her." Said the other, drowsily.

"Through bars? Sure you would have heard that meddlin' Harris." Jewell sneered in reply, a cackle upon his lips. There was an exchange of keys that interrupted the conversation briefly.

"No, no. No. The head meddlin', I half a mind to believe that his quiet means that he be thinking. Thinking means planning."

"Stupid you are. Nothing gets by me." There was scuff of feet on the floor boards, coming towards our cells, it was only the pair. I hurried back from the bars, to the shadows in the corner, repelled by his approach. Harris had remained where he was, readying himself to leave, "Shall plant myself here. That should put them off any mischief. Physical or otherwise." This time, Jewell outright cackled, a sound like gravel scraping upon cobble stones.

No response came from the other, all I heard were footsteps sluggishly retiring up the stairs. Jewell reached our cells, coming to a halt outside mine. Peering in, like an excitable child at a bird menagerie, he was close enough to hear the wheezing of his breath.

Jack broke the silence.

"She doesn't do tricks." He was getting to his feet, watching the others every move.

"That's what you think Sparrow." Jewell smirked, "You didn't see what she got up to in the Captains quarters. Dark horse, she is." A dirty chuckle followed.

Jack approached the bars, leaning nonchalantly on the iron and reflected on what he had said, "Knowing your reputation, Jewell, you'd like to try her. Just the same as ever. Have you considered perhaps asking a woman before you-"

The bald-headed fiend moved fast, despising the questioning and went for Jacks throat, reaching through the bars, snarling like a rabid dog. "You don't know what you say. I take what I needs, I give what women deserve and my business is nothing to do with you." He was choking Sparrow through the bar, who was gurgling unpleasantly and grasping weakly at Jewells shirt front.

Thrusting him away at last, Jack clung to the bars with one hand for support, collapsing to his knees and with his other hand rubbing his neck, coughing feebly. There was a fury burning in those dark eyes but he said no more.

"Nice try Sparrow." At first I didn't understand what he meant but then Jewell held the cell keys up mockingly, "Like I said, nothing gets by me. Tis an old trick,'s'pected better from ye." Returning to my cell, he scratched absently at his uneven skin. I became aware that I should be afraid. Having Jacks company had allowed my fears to, at least, subside. He was a pirate, and oh how I hated pirates, but there was a comradeship, a common ground that allowed my barrier to fall. We had to stick together. And now he was wounded, left weak and useless. Jewell could do anything and not be disturbed by Jack. Jack had failed.

"Maybe he was right," Jewell spoke softly, "I know what I like. And you're not the captains favourite now. Why, he can replace you just as soon as we finish business in Tortuga…"

"No." I pleaded, "You, all of you, keep saying this. Then why didn't Maurier throw me overboard. Yes, perhaps I can be replaced. But not without struggles. I am sure the Captain does not want me… meddled with."

It appeared that perhaps I was right; my blind excuses may have called their bluff. There was hesitation, and I rose, treading cautiously towards him. I did not feel brave but confidence would help me sell my cause, "Jewell – May I call you Jewell? – I would like to apologise to the Captain-"

"He won't come." He interjected swiftly.

"Then I shall go to him?"

"He won't permit you."

"Then I will send him a message."

"He won't accept it."

Talking was proving a distraction, but I prayed that my warning was effective "Whatever shall I do then. I wish to repair the bridge between the Captain and I. If I-"

"Oh quiet you blithering fool." Jewell cried, exasperated, "The Captain don't want you, and neither do we." I knew this statement was due to my threats, amused how he had to turn it around, "You can sit here till we drop anchor in Tortuga. Then Captain will know what to do with ya. He wants ye here, so ye stay here." A malicious grin spread across his ugly, displeasing face, " Tis a shame, seems I have to wait to try posh totty." Snorting at his own words, he wandered off gradually up the walkway.

Coming to a halt, he hooked the chair at the end, by the stairs, with his foot and kicked it ahead of him, making his way back to us until it was directly facing between our cells. Sitting with a heavy thud on the chair, he reached into his pockets and retrieved a knife from one and a small block of wood from the other. Above the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the ship, the groaning of the vessel itself and the creaking of the sparse, metal lanterns above him, the only other noise came from Jewell as he whittled away. He spoke no more.

I returned to the back corner of my cell and slid to the floor, dejectedly. Exhausted and agitated, I had to remind myself of the small success that had just occurred. Jack crawled to where I was but did not shuffle to my corner, unwilling to catch the attention of our jailer. Being there, in that gloomy place, where the floor and walls were constantly damp, with only straw to soften the hard angles, I was aware that Jack was watching me. Our best chances of survival lay in Tortuga and I hoped he knew that. To escape Mauriers clutches, I would need him although I hated to admit it.

Fortune was on my side that night, if only briefly. Saved from assault, now I had the pleasure of waiting for our destination, gradually growing colder, without any understanding of how long it could take. Would I survive the trip? Would Jewell be capable of staying away? Would I be malnourished or possibly diseased? Or Would Maurier have a change of heart before then?

The night drew on and soon our jailer was dozing although I would not dream of trying anything. Certain he was a light sleeper; I could not sleep, shivering in the damp, uncomfortable cell. The night-coat I wore was useless to shield me from the conditions and I cuddled my legs, curling up in the corner. There was movement in Jacks cell and within moments, he was beside me, huddling close. Wordlessly, he shrugged off his coat and handed it to me through the bars.

"You will be cold," I whispered, teeth chattering.

"I'll manage. You'll catch a fever before journeys end, take it." His voice was soft, comforting. There was no hint of mocking in his tone. Accepting it with a hushed thank you, wrapping it over my stooped frame, I felt more comfortable then than I had in hours. Jack remained where he was, leaning on the bars, staying close to me for warmth.

That was how we remained, that first night as captives together. We were allies.

X

My fears, although justified, were foolish. Jewell did not serve as our jailer again, rotation of crew being vaster than I had anticipated. By jailer five, Jack had regained some energy following his attack, the gruel we were fed had an incredibly small role to play in that matter. By jailer seven, I was finally able to talk to my companion, the previous jailers being competent until then. Seven was asleep, happy to keep the chair back where it was when I was originally brought down to the brig. Privacy was returned to us, if only for a while.

There was no sun to shine through the port holes on us, but it was not stormy. Simply overcast. Jack lay along the back wall, his hat tilted over his eyes, the soles of his worn boots towards me, whilst I huddled in the corner of my cell closest to him. Those few days had led me to crave the familiarity. It was a comfort to find solidarity in someone, even a silent kinship.

"Jack," I whispered, watching his hand pick idly at the straw on the floor, "I may have a plan."

I expected him to turn his attention to me but he remained where he was, unmoved, "If you're considering the possibility of our departure at Tortuga, I am pondering the idea myself. As to how we can go about such a scheme, I tend to improvise on the day. Scripts aren't my forte."

There was no denying that I was flabbergasted, "No- no plan. Not even an inkling?"

"Never in my long and varied life have I had a strategy, there's no excitement in that. Let alone success. My greatest ideas have not been thought through… in fact I cannot stress how little I thought them through. Nor how often rum played a key part in it all." Lifting his hat a little with his finger to look at my, now, raging face, he smirked, "Get used to it, love."

Furious and frantic, a searched around wildly for something to throw in distress at him. Just straw. I attempted to throw it anyway, " You useless, layabout, sluggard of a pirate!" He sat up as it rained down on him, coughing as he inhaled some of it.

Stumbling to my feet, legs weak from lack of use, I began to pace my cage.

"I would be grateful if you put a little faith in me Miss Cultarga."

"I will not. I cannot lay about for next however many days-"

"Three days."Jack was picking bits of straw off his person. I came to a halt.

"Three?"

"You aren't much of a navigator. Cultarga is not far from Tortuga, but your island is often out of the general paths of pirates, few know the island and those who do see little interest and fortune to gain in such a new plot. Being that close to a Pirates rest stop has kept you out of trouble all these years. We are three days from Tortuga. In three days we'll arrive and make our escape. In the meantime, rest, devise your own plan if you want but I promise you, we will be free of the clutches of Maurier. I have no intention of spending more time than is necessary on this ship."

Blind faith, this was a risk I had to be willing to take. My destiny was in his hands. He knew Tortuga, I did not. I could begin to scheme but without Jacks geographical knowledge… Maurier would have the better of me.

"Do you trust me, Miss Cultarga? At least in this matter?" he eyed me curiously.

My resistance collapsed and I sighed, "In this matter."

"Then Tortuga awaits us."


	5. Chapter 5

Guv was the one to alert us of our arrival. Jack and I had been prisoners together for almost a week without a single exercise invitation to the deck. We remained in the dingy, dark enclosed space which had both been a nightmare and a blessing. It saved me from the sight of the open ocean that would have surrounded me, a feverish attack would have overcome me and I should have been made of fool of by my own fear. In this cell, although a tedious, hellish hovel, I was barred from pirates and protected by Mauriers' distant command if only temporarily.

So I was nervous as Guv appeared; he had made regular, brief, wordless visits to me which I assumed was for his Captain to know how I was. He and Jack would speak but to me, not a syllable. Directly addressing me as he strolled along the walkway, the current jailer obediently at his heel, in his hands a gift box, he seemed jovial, "Right, girl. Put this on, Captain wants you on deck."

The jailer hurriedly unlocked the door and Guv stepped in without a thank you. At arm's length, he held the box out to me and smirked.

"Here?" I knew they would make no effort to provide me the privacy.

"Where else?" he replied with a pleased sneer. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jack avert his gaze.

Silently, I snatched the box from his hands, turned my back on them, and threw the lid aside to reveal an emerald velvet dress, perhaps a little out of fashion but intricately detailed on the bodice and handsome. I made no indication of pleasure although the dress was one of the loveliest I had ever seen, dropped the gift on the floor and violently shrugged off the now tatty, grubby night coat I had been wearing during my stay in the brig. Stark naked, I snatched the dress up and found some fresh undergarments and stockings at the base of the box which I slipped on speedily and a pair of shoes to match my gown. These were not so complicated to assemble, for they were not of the quality and class that I was used to but it was lovely to finally be wearing more. I put the dress on, also not as complex, a simpler dress than I had initially thought. It was liberating to be free of a corset. My plump figure was permitted to breathe.

As I laced, loosely, the ties at the front of the dress, I turned with head held high, glaring on the men who had watched me the entire time.

"Lead the way," I smiled pertly, hoping the acidity of my tone oozed through and not the underlying fear that still threatened to erupt. They beckoned me out and after a quick glance at Sparrow, returned with a quick nod, I was guided from the brig.

With no sign of the Captain, I assumed I would be taken back to the Mauriers' quarters but when I was brought onto the deck in a blaze of glorious sunlight, startling in comparison to the dim, dank, darkness I'd spent far too much time in, they led me away.

We were in the port of Tortuga and how different it was from the ports I had come to expect. Bawdy and tatty, everything about it was displeasing to the eye and noisy. It was not the common buzz of a general, functioning, legitimate environment. The air was full of cackles and squeals and gun-shots and smashing of glass. It was the sort of chaos that drew me into a fit of irritability.

The board was down, and at the foot of it stood Maurier. He was instructing his men, five of them all together unfamiliar to me, as his gaze roamed across the landscape and so did not take note of me until I was almost to his side. Turning slowly, hearing the clop-clop of my shoes, he seemed momentarily pleased to see me, or at the very least pleased to see I was dressed more appropriately to his finicky eye.

"Miss Cultarga! At last! If you'd taken any longer, I would have assumed you had decided to throw yourself overboard." He laughed an obnoxious booming laugh that encouraged those of his crew about to join in.

Beside him at last, and watching him beneath hooded brows, smiling falsely, theatrically I calmly replied, "Drowning is far more desirable prospect than spending another moment with you."

This cut him short, and viciously he grasped my forearm, "Hush that talk, my dear. Or I will slit your throat and leave you to the back-alley scum."

And with that, he announced our departure, and went further onwards into Tortuga, he forcing my arm about his, imitating an almost casual scroll across the hectic square, similar to the ones Edgar would take me out on, only my chaperones this time were grotty, stinking pirates and the setting resembled my nightmare realised.

We went along in contented silence, content on his part anyway; every step I took re-ignited my fear of the despicable creatures surrounding me. Having been forced into such a small environment, surrounded by pirates and ocean, for the time I had been, led me to believe I was miraculously cured of my fears. In fact, it appeared I had only become numb to it all, the familiarity of the space and the faces had almost closed me off from the realities of my situation… and perhaps Sparrow aided my mind as well.

It crept up on me, this fear, like the intrusive vines that grew across the trellises in the gardens of my old home, and soon I was unable to ignore it. A pressure was on my mind and chest, and with anxiety rising and perspiration on my brow, I struggled to listen to Maurier once he decided to converse at me.

"It's refreshing to see you dressed in something other than vomit-stained rags and… well nothing at all." From the corner of his eye, peering down on me, he waited for a retort. All he wanted to do was provoke me and as I was struggling to breathe steadily, it was the least of my concerns. I hoped I would not make a fool of myself before the swine swarming around me, that I could gather my senses together again before I was consumed by the overwhelming urge to black-out. I fought it. Viciously. For I dreaded more so, what would happen to me in a place like this with the company I was keeping. No one here wanted to protect me. I was a bargaining chip, I had deduced so far. Worth a fair amount of gold. Maurier needed a living body to get what he wanted, what happened to that body was none of his concerns so long as it wasn't dead. It seemed hard to believe that was all I was kept about for yet I had no other explanation.

"It is with regret that we were parted so long, your journey would have been far more agreeable had we not fallen upon such unpleasant terms, however this meeting I have arranged shall hopefully right the wrongs between us."

Breathless but stubborn, I tried to reply, "Meeting? For what?"

Oblivious to my plight, he responded tartly, "You will see." He clutched my arm more firmly and he continued to talk at me until we reached our destination. And, surprising myself, I was relieved. To be out of the open, so vulnerable to fiends, to finally rest, to breathe.

I had anticipated we would meet in a tavern of some sort or another bawdy place but we took a sudden turn off the main street, where it was quieter but the smell was exceptionally poor and weaved our way about the cluttered walkway, barely wide enough for two to walk shoulder to shoulder.

We came to a halt after another left turn and then a right and there, before us, was a crudely, rotting door. Maurier beckoned to one of his men who had led the way to knock for him and stepped aside as we waited for an answer.

"Not a word," Maurier muttered from the side of his mouth, looking not at me. By this point, I was relatively unaware of my own being, he was so sturdy and strong and narcissistic that he didn't feel my gradual weight leaning on him for support. If he did, to him it would be a victory. Now I knew that my anxiety was not all that disarmed me but also the very fact that I had been huddled in a cage without moving very much at all. I was overwhelmed and useless.

It felt an eternity and more before the door was opened to reveal a decrepit old man, balding and thin, skin blotched and bruised. Eyes wide and vacant, lips drawn back from his teeth permanently to form a manic grin, I was repelled by the figure before me; nothing in his presence reassured me at all. He was frightening creature that seemed to be almost clinging to life and this repulsed me.

"Back so soon?" He croaked, snickering as he opened the door wider to let us in.

"Efficiency is my most charming trait, Old man." With a chuckle that startled me, Maurier dragged me inside and immediately sat me at the square table in the centre of the small, dingy room, lit only by the timid fire in the grate and with an odour much like rotten apples filling the stuffy air. I could make very little out of my surroundings yet could hardly have the opportunity as the room was soon filled quite quickly with Mauriers men. Two remained outside.

Another two, Guv of them, stood behind my chair and their Captain took the seat to the right of me, without invitation, eyeing the elderly creature that now bustled about the fireplace, feeding more logs to the pitiful thing.

"Tea?" the elderly man called over his shoulder.

"No, thank you, Neets." Maurier replied, distractedly. Neets was his name; I hoped I had heard correctly.

"Rum?"

"No."  
"Wine?"

"Dry?"

"Is there any other?"

"A glass please."

The drink was prepared for him, almost black in the dimness, yet it was Guv who reached out to take the first sip and I discovered a new height to his pomposity; it seemed the Captain enjoyed the illusion of royalty without the slightest clue that he was of the lowest scum.

Guv did not keel over. He placed it before his boss and, removing a freshly pressed handkerchief from his cuff, Maurier wiped the rim of the glass thoroughly, handed the soiled cloth to Guv who handed it to another, and took a grateful sip of the much anticipated wine.

With a grunt, he swallowed what he had drunk but it took a moment, "Do you brew it in your chamber pot?" he exclaimed.

"I brew it meself! I don't recall whether or not I did use the bed pan… it's one and twenty years young that bottle and my head does not think so far back to such trivial things. I can hardly remember this morning." Neets wheezed, collecting a brass dish from the mantelpiece, and a pouch of some kind, bringing it to the table and seating himself, with some difficulty, opposite me.

"Where'd you find this one?" he asked abruptly as he pulled a pin from a petite wooden box he removed from his waistcoat pocket. "Of the lot I located for you?"

Maurier eyed him carefully before turning his attentions on me, reaching a soft, gentle hand towards my face and taking one of the strands of my unwashed hair that was beginning to fall across my brow, twirling it idly about his fingers, reclining comfortably in his chair.

"Cultarga. She's the daughter of that oblivious, starry-eyed, fool of a lord, Bevis." That smirk was upon his face again and he waited for a reaction from me.

I returned his smirk with a look that could burn a hole through the very ship he sailed, however said nothing. Although I felt my strength returning gradually, I began to wonder if open spaces were now added to my catalogue of anxieties. At least I was able to focus on my surroundings, no matter how disorientating the dimness of the fleapit we dwelled was.

"Ahh, I suppose the fortune was appealing." Neets replied as he sprinkled some of the contents of the pouch, a distinct aroma of dizzying herbs and spices, into the dish and spat noisily onto it.

Recoiling in disgust, Maurier was still holding my hair in his hand and he tugged roughly at it. Instantaneously, a knee-jerk reaction to pain, I smacked limply at his hand and faster than I could respond, he had my wrist in a vice like grip, but none the less ignored my outburst, squeezing tighter on the tender flesh. "Of course. If our presumptions were wrong about her, at least my time was not wasted. A ransom for her will come in time, I'm sure, and it shall be vast."

"Shall we evaluate your time then?" Neets replied, almost like a schoolmaster, the pin in one hand and the other held out towards me expectantly.

Maurier obliged, presenting the hand he held so tightly. Guv and the fellow behind me placed a hand on each shoulder and their Captain prized, with brutish force, a stubborn finger from my tightly balled up fist. I was so weak in comparison to them all and in no time, Neets had my index finger between his finger and thumb and pricked it with an unnecessary savagery.

"What are you doing? Stop!" I squawked. One of the men behind me smacked the side of my head. Maurier said nothing.

Moving my finger over the dish, Neets squeezed hard as droplets of blood dribbled into it. The worst of the event was that once my finger provided no more, they pricked two more fingers before they were satisfied with contents.

My hand was cold and feeble once it was finally returned to me. The dish was blown on before Neets began to spin it around and round for what seemed an unnecessarily long time. And he left it to its own devices.

As it slowed, the men about me all lent in for a closer look; I joined in to see if my blood was put to good use. The dish settled at snail's pace, with nothing of note about it to begin with. Then it came to a halt. And there, forming upon the surface of my own blood, the herbs rose. And the shape they made was clear. I couldn't believe my eyes and gave a gasp in horror. Maurier rose with a triumphant bark of a laugh and slapped the back of Neets, knocking him and the table with a jolt. The blood almost spilt, but the shape did not disperse. It was firm and there. A skull.

"This is sorcery. What is the meaning of this?" I cried, trying to stand but the goons not letting me.

"It means, my dear Miss Cultarga, that you were a charming investment after all!" Maurier, crouched before me and took both my hands in his, a condescending smile on his fine lips. I tried to pull away but he held firm, his lip curling as he did.

"Am I to die?" I hissed.

Chuckling softly, his reply was as smug as his expression "You silly little fool, of course not, unless I intend it. That manifestation," He nodded towards the dish absently, "means one thing. This may be the most exciting thing you'll ever hear in your entire life. It will certainly knock you from that pedestal you so determinedly placed yourself on. You, Miss Cultarga, heiress to the Cultargan fortune… have the blood of a pirate." Laughter bubbled from his unsympathetic lips and soon he was howling with excitement.

I was kept where I was, looking about helplessly, "No! How? It's wrong! It can't be! My parents are good people!"

Neets was the one to speak, Maurier was preoccupied with his gleeful celebration, "S'not your parents you twit. Nor is it on your mother's side. Clean slate on all parts there. Twas your grandfather-"

He was unable to finish for there was a heavy thud upon the front door.


End file.
